


It's All So Clear, I Could Never Forget

by shessocold



Series: I Told I'd Always Love You, I Always Did, I Always Will [20]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Birthday Fluff, Book 4: Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire, Drabble, Light Angst, M/M, Monologue, Past Relationship(s), Pining, Reminiscing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-26
Updated: 2017-12-26
Packaged: 2019-02-22 01:41:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,136
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13156485
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shessocold/pseuds/shessocold
Summary: Hippogriffs are great listeners.





	It's All So Clear, I Could Never Forget

“Aw, Bucky, I think it's Moony's birthday today.”

Buckbeak, who is busy tearing into a rat's carcass, doesn't seem particularly interested in Sirius' sudden announcement. 

“Right, you've never met Moony. You would like him, though. Wonderful fellow,” says Sirius, folding his stolen copy of the Daily Prophet smoothly. “Lovely person, really. Do you think I should send him a note?” 

Buckbeak keps his focus on his rat. 

“The fact is, I should have written earlier, shouldn't I? It's been almost a year. I should have invited him to come stay with us when we were in Madagascar. The warm weather would have been nice for him – I was horrible to him, Bucky, years ago. I really was. It's a miracle he still thinks of me as a friend.” 

Buckbeak, as if responding to the anguish in Sirius' tone, momentarily abandons the rat's carcass and goes to rest his great feathered head against Sirius' arm. 

“It's not that I didn't love him,” says Sirius, patting the Hippogriff gently on his beak. “I was crazy about him. But I thought he _had_ to be the spy, and I couldn't very well keep living with a spy, could I? Sleeping with a spy. I was so stupid, Bucky. Moony would never have betrayed any of us, anyone with an ounce of sense would have known that. But we were all so young, and the war made us paranoid, and I have always been so _rash_ , and this one night I came home to him and I just...” 

Sirius trails off, as if unable to relate the details of his and Remus' break-up even to the Hippogriff. 

“I threw him out in the streets, Bucky. He didn't have a Galleon to his name. I don't know where he went – I think James was helping him out behind my back for a bit, but then of course James d-died...” 

Sirius is crying now, tears rolling silently down his dirty cheeks. Buckbeak licks at them. 

“If I could give him all my gold, I would. He would never take it, he's so proud – even when we were in school – James and I almost had to fight him to persuade him to let us buy him a glass of Firewhisky when he turned seventeen – of course that might also have had something to do with the fact that we had to go to the Hog's Head, because James himself wasn't quite seventeen yet – Moony is a very clean person, I don't think he quite trusted Aberforth's glasses...” 

Sirius stops talking, his smile faltering as he looks at his filthy hands like if he was seeing them for the first time. Buckbeak goes back to chewing on his rat. 

“I just wish he hadn't seen me like this,” says Sirius, in an unnecessarily quiet voice. “I might have always been an idiot and an arsehole, Bucky, but I used to at least be good-looking. Hard to believe now, eh?” he adds with a mirthless chuckle, gesturing at himself. 

Buckbeak follows Sirius' hands with one unblinking orange eye, the top half of the rat hanging from his sharp beak. 

“Moony used to tell me I was the most handsome man in the world – he said he'd never understand why someone who looked like me would go for someone like him – he can be pretty thick, sometimes, for such a smart person. He used to look _glorious_ back then, I nearly drove myself insane pining after him for years before we finally got together. He has _freckles_ , for Merlin's sake. Tiny little freckles all over his nose,” says Sirius, in a tone that clearly implies that he considers the detail significant enough to set the matter of Remus' attractiveness for good. “And curly hair, and he gets really tan in the summer, I never could, I just go bright pink if I try – you've seen how it was for me in Madagascar, haven't you, Bucky? Constantly sunburnt, what a miserable existence for a pasty bastard like me. Here, have another rat. I'm really sorry I can't let you out to hunt, we're too close to the school, it really wouldn't be wise. I'll try to catch you a frog tonight, would you like that?” 

Buckbeak doesn't dignify the offer with a reaction. 

“All right,” says Sirius, with a sigh. “I'm sending him a note. I can't bear not to. I wish I had a decent piece of parchment,” he laments, tearing a fragment of blank parchment off the bottom part of Harry's most recent reply. “Remus deserves nice things... Remus is Moony's real name – Moony is a school nickname – they used to call me Padfoot, you know, because I turn into a dog. James was Prongs. But Moony nearly always called me by my first name anyway, there's not a sound in the world I cherish more than the sound of Moony's voice calling my name, he has such a beautiful voice, I remember how he used to...” 

Sirius doesn't finish his sentence. 

“Anyway, what shall I write?” he asks, face slightly flushed, adjusting himself under his prison robes. “ _Dear Moony, it's been fourteen years and I still get an automatic hard-on when I think of you ordering me around in bed. Also I've taken to discussing my love life with Hippogriffs. Happy birthday! Yours, Sirius (the escaped convict, living mainly off rats in a cave somewhere) PS. Please get back together with me, I love you more than I can possibly put into words. PPS. I look like death now and I haven't taken a proper bath in thirteen years, but you were never the superficial kind, were you? PPPS. I love you and I'm sorry I was the world's biggest git and I love you._ What do you say, Bucky? Sounds good to you? Yeah, I didn't think so.” 

Pausing briefly to rub his bloodshot eyes, Sirius dips his quill into the inkpot and starts writing, this time for real. 

_Dear Moony, I just wanted to wish you a very happy birthday. Have a slice of cake for me too!_

 _Yours, Pads_

“Well, this is it, Bucky,” he says, folding the piece of parchment and – not without feeling pretty foolish – sealing it with a kiss. “Now we just have to wait until we manage to get our hands on a owl – no, you _cannot_ eat the owl,” he adds, sternly, because Buckbeak has perked up suspiciously at the word. “We need it to bring this to Remus. To Moony.” 

He goes silent for a second, the prickling of impending tears again in his eyes. 

“OK, what do you want to do now?” he asks eventually, trying for a cheerful tone, and when he looks up he can almost swear that the Hippogriff is looking at him with pity in his great fiery orange eyes. 

**Author's Note:**

> Sirius is a true English rose.


End file.
